Everybody loves Jared
by sammyjaredgirl
Summary: Everybody is fighting over Jared like he's the last bone in the dog bowl. Jim Beaver to the rescue.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story is crack fic at its most moronic. Nothing makes sense. Facts are twisted. I made up a whole lot of shit and I did it on purpose. This big mess is unbetaed. And I did that on purpose too. All recognizable people in this story did not do any of the silly things you are about to read. I made it up cos I'm bored … and a loser…with no boyfriend…or a bank balance. There, you happy now? I said it. I'm broke, bored, single and inconveniently horny. If it weren't for Sam's pull ups, I would end it – my diet that is. So go forth, brave readers and brace yourselves for human intellect at its worse.

**Everyone loves Jared **

Sera Gamble was shitting hot bricks. They had decided to write John into the script temporarily, as a spirit with amnesia (no, really). Sam and Dean's new task would be to jog daddy's memory and sent him towards the light or whatever. Ben had thought it would be a good idea. Ben was, currently, kicking his own ass. Even Charlie Beeson called the showrunner up asking, frantically, if she was out of her mind. She was about to scrap the 'Return Of John' idea, when Eric (the malevolent dictator of this soon-to-be train wreck) called, from whatever cave he was currently residing in, to let them know that John Winchester's temporary return could be very good for ratings. In fact, he thought that papa bear should be haunting the Impala, for at least a few weeks. Jeff's fans deserve that much. Now they were sunk. How were they gonna keep everything under control for a few weeks? But Eric was adamant. Which means everybody else had to be okay with it – whether they were okay with it or not. It wasn't that nobody liked Jeff. Everybody loved him. He was a darling. There was one unlikely soul however, who didn't dote on Daddy Winchester. Jensen hated Jeff's living guts. Those two were as volatile together as flatulence and a lit match. The last time the two men were in the same room, they started throwing punches as each other. Nobody knew why but they were freaked as hell to see such docile professionals ready to tear each other apart. They tried to needle the truth out of Jared, but it was no use. He was just as clueless as everyone else. If he only knew that he was the troublemaker.

Jensen had fallen in love Jared so slowly that the truth (when it finally surfaced) stunned him to silence. Unfortunately, Jensen was a big fat coward. So every time he tried to man up and confess his undying love to Jared, his bladder would mysteriously fill up, in urgent need of emptying. Jeff came on set on his first gig with the younger actors, took one look at the boy with the feline-inspired orbs and was bowled over. Jared was a lovely young thing, full of life, with a heart-melting smile and uncharacteristic modesty. Of course, Jensen and Jeff became that they were each other's competition. The temperatures dropped dramatically on set. At first, they had stayed safely within the confines of name-calling. Jensen said things like home-wrecker, relic and cradle-snatcher. Jeff's insult repertoire boasted such classics as hooker lips, girly-face and cheap condom. Jensen was silenced by that last one. Really, he didn't have a comeback for it. Things escalated from there, but throughout the epic battle between the two big J's, the littlest J (well agewise, anyway) remained blissfully ignorant. The older men actually wondered whether the magna cum laude thing was a lie.

When John died, Dean was shattered. It was some of the most difficult acting Jensen ever had to do. You try looking mopey when you really want to do the happy dance. Jeff was gone. The thorn had been removed. He and loverly loverly Jared could now live happily. Things had changed since early season two. Jensen, who never quite managed to tell Jared how he felt, now had to contend with…well other contenders. First, that bitch Misha pitched up. Boy, did the girls get it wrong. Destial, my ass. Misha drooled for the oblivious Jared, and Jared only. In fact, to Jensen, the whole Destial thing was a diversionary tactic. Jensen was able to keep an eye on the twit and keep him away from darling Jared. When Misha realized what underhandedness Jen was up to, Misha came up with his dastardly plan. He couldn't seduce the lovely math whiz in privacy – no problem! Misha was shameless enough to get his greedy hands on Jared right there in the open. The Aussie con had almost given Jensen a heart attack. Misha, the bastard, had actually bent darling Jared over right in front of the fans. Jensen was so scandalized, that he'd actually swiveled his chair away, hiding his anger with a smile. The battle continued, Misha winning because he was devious and Jensen losing because he was dumb. Things escalated when Richard's character became Gabriel. Because now he was semi-permanent. Suddenly, Jared and Richard are sitting away from everyone else, grinning and telling eachother stories about childhood pranks they had pulled. For the first time, Misha was on edge. Richard was a freaking genius. This guy was too smart and Misha was actually doubtful of himself (you must understand that pompous Misha is never uncertain of himself). Jensen and Misha cried and drank all night, when Richard asked sweet Jared to pose for a fan picture and Jared ended up kissing Richard's cheek, running his thumb on Richard's lips.

Of course, the script writers came to the rescue, killing Gabriel off, and getting the potent Richard Speight Jr. out of the way. But then they replace him with Sebastian Roche. If evil Misha and brainy Richard ever managed to procreate, their baby would be something like Sebastian Roche. Neither man had any control over this hurricane. The debauched picture of Jared on Seb's Twitter page enraged Richard. He was even more pissed when he saw the second picture. Seb the serpent had wrapped himself around Jared's body. They were lying – on a bed – bodies intertwined. Really, twitter should be banned. If that was not bad enough Richard took a good look at the background and starting having kittens. Jensen, that hopeless cunt, was sitting right there behind Jared, one hand thrown up in outrage. Misha and Richard couldn't wait to get Jensen alone.

"You were right there." Richard growled, "The bastard was touching something that we've been fighting over for years. And you just let him? What are you, fucking spineless?"

"I was standing guard," Jensen growled back, defensively, "just in case things got out of hands."

The other men narrowed their eyes at the imbecile.

"Out of hands?" Misha asked, "Weren't things getting out of hands, already?"

"No!" Jensen squawked.

"He's an idiot." Richard mumbled, shaking his head.

They were just relieved that Jared was too big for Seb to pick up and carry off. Richard came on set frequently, cos he was 'missing the gang'. Yeah right, thought Jensen. So now, poor Jared was caught in the middle of a four way battle. He was the prize and the silly boy didn't even know it. All he knew was that everyone on set was angry, but not with him. Whenever he walked into the room, the tension would fizzle out and everyone would plaster fake smiles on their mugs. Jared felt there was a problem, and the boys were trying to protect him because he was the youngest. It was good that he was pretty because a stupid brain like that _and_ a hideous face? That would just be unfair.

Things got completely out of hand, when Matt Cohen came on set. This guy was practically eye-raping Jared's biceps. Jen shook his head incredulously. Was it the fucking John character? Every time the John character pitched up on script, poor Jared was in danger of being violated. This guy was all over Jared, and Jared (the chronic cuddler) lived for snuggling and was completely unaware of the effect he was having on younger John. When the bastards at the convention decided to invite Mr. Cohen on board, Jensen threw a fit…in his apartment…when nobody was watching…cos he's a coward. Throughout the fucking convention; Jensen, Misha, Richard and even Sebastian worked together; to keep the damn incubus away from the love of their lives. Matt and his whore-ish tendency to wear really tight shirts made them realize something they hadn't given a shit about before. This Matt guy ain't too bad on the eyes. They started fretting. By the end of the convention, Matt was fuming. The four bastards didn't even give him two seconds with Jared. Someone or the other was always guarding the boy. All of Matt's raunchy hopes and dreams were dashed.

Throughout it all, Jim stood by watching everything with a smirk on his face. Jensen had confided in him and Jim had said that he would support Jen in whatever he did. Of course, Jim had said that to all the other stalkers who had confided in him. Except Jeff. Jeff never confided in him. He left before getting that chance. Now, the stupid writers had gone and added Jeff back into the story and by the looks of it, John's specter was gonna stick around a little longer than Jensen had hoped. The way Jared had welcomed Jeff, had left all his admirers in fits of anger and dismay. The two had hugged for one full minute. One full fucking minute. The stalkers had bitched about that one stinking minute for the rest of the day. You could just picture the lunch time pandemonium. All five men subtly fought with each other to sit next to Jared. Sebastian discreetly stabbing Jensen in the ass cheek with a fork. Richard 'accidentally' toppling his orange juice all over Misha. And Jared, who was forever hungry, never noticed. Really, the boy was gonna take up engineering? It was a good thing he didn't. All his buildings would have collapsed. Jeff simply asked Jared if he could sit next to the boy and Jared smiled warmly and said 'of course, papa bear'. How much the rest of the vultures hated Jeff at that moment cannot be put into words.

Finally Eric threw a bombshell. Sam was gonna drown and somebody would have to give him mouth to mouth. Sera the scapegoat was sent on set to talk to Jared about the scene and how essentially he would have to let another male kiss him … well sort of. She hoped he would not have a problem with the idea. Jared had blushed and said sweetly that he didn't have a problem with that. Sera's inner samgirl wanted to fuck him right there and then. How flawlessly wonderful he was. Except for the sweating…and the farting…and dressing Sam in so many shirts, that you couldn't see a fucking thing. Sera thought that had gone well enough. But then again, she was not there when the shit hit the fan. Charlie was neck deep in 'shit' when he called her on the phone. Apparently, Jared had told everyone about the lunatic script they were gonna get soon. They had started to argue about who was gonna kiss Jared. Jeff fucking hated playing a ghost at this point because no matter how friendly Casper was, he never got that friendly. Misha's bid to be the designated smoocher had been mocked by all and sundry because 'you're the fucking villain now, asshole'. Richard was also laughed at because 'you don't even work here, assbutt, just go home'. Top contenders were looking to be Jensen (lucky bastard) and Sebastian (sneaky bastard).

Of course, Sera (because she's sadistic like that) chose guest actor Tom motherfucking Welling as the official Sam licker. Jensen, who had worked with Tom before, never saw the horny devil so enthusiastic. Great! one more fucking rival. The 'kissing' scene took longer that usual because the typically dull Mr. Welling kept fucking up the take because he was in stitches. And his giggles would set Jared off because… well you know Jared; he just needs an excuse to start laughing. So a thirty second mouth to mouth scene ended up taking three fucking hours to shoot. No shit, by the end of it, Jared's lips were swollen. Jared's stalkers were crestfallen that it was right there and they couldn't even touch it. What was embarrassingly obvious was that Clark the shark was doing it on purpose. Well it was obvious to everyone except Jared of course. By the time, the director called it a wrap, the other admirers were practically in tears. Superman violated their baby. Then Tom (because he had to keep pushing it) walked up to them and thanked them 'for everything cos I really had a good time, can't wait to come back for more'. He waggled his professionally shaped eyebrows at them. Then Jeff decked him. Yep, one minute Tommy was rubbing it in their faces. The next, he was lying flat on his face.

The End

Fret not my pretties. Only one more chapter. Only a lunatic can write a crackfic that is ten chapters long. And I ain't no lunatic. I just pretend to be one. So send me your love and I'll send you the last chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you, fellow single, broke, horny chicks. Everybody was oh, so kind to leave such sweet reviews about my 'masterpiece'. I was shitting hot bricks (Sera's not the only one who knows how to do that) at the thought that I haven't put out a slash warning. I was waiting for the 'Eww, that is so gross' and 'They are not gay' and 'Why don't you get a life and stop spreading deceitful lies'. Imagine my disappointment. I didn't get a single one. Not a single one. I do so find them amusing, but the fandom held out on me. What is wrong with you chicks? Where are the rabid fans? Tsk, tsk, so sad. Maybe the rabid ones can't read. Or maybe, my loverlies, there are more slashers in the world than garden variety females. The evil thought warms my sinful heart. Hear me now, ladies; a new age will dawn where slashy gals (and their pervy kinks) will take their natural place in the world. All pole-dancers and secretaries will be men. Oprah will be replaced by a man with puppy-dog eyes. The swine sitting at the head of the breakfast table looking smug and ungrateful and reading the morning paper will be some gal. All women, who are plump and covered in eye-catching stretch-marks, won't give a flying fuck about it. Why? Cos in the new age, it will not be our job to look sexy. Long pants will be banned. All men will wear short shorts...and name tags showing who they belong to. That means, in the future, Misha will be somebody's minion. Men, the world over, will meet up with their friends at lunch to discuss their emotions and the latest carb-free diet. And we won't notice that they've lost a pound or two, because we are too busy fucking the secretary…who looks like Jensen…who only wears short shorts. All hail the sisterhood of the slashers – women so randy, we make succubae look like saints. Bwahahahaha (cue evil taking over the world music)

A/N#2: I typed so much in the first author's note that now my fingers bloody hurt and I used up a sizeable portion of my good jokes. Feck it.

A/N#3: Feck is Scottish for fuck. If your cheap-ass Brit, you would probably say 'Fock' (no, really). If you fecking ask me, the European versions sound focking funny. I'd go to the U.K. just to hear them swearing. Rich people in Britain don't swear. They do say 'I am appalled' a lot. I'll choose the focking poor ones over the fecking rich ones. Cos they sound totally righteous, dude. Now let's get this effing show on the road.

A/N#4: I left the arse-end of this masterpiece unbetaed. And I did it on purpose.

Chapter Two

Tom slowly stood up, holding his smarting cheek with an impeccably manicured hand. He was shocked. It had never occurred to him that somebody might actually consider smacking him across the face. Jeff stood there fuming. Richard came to stand by his side, smirking. He patted Jeff on the shoulder, showing his approval. Sebastian also patted Jeff (on the arse, because he's Sebastian). Misha was pissed because _he_ hadn't thrown the punch. Jensen stood way back. Poor thing was suffering from Shrunken Balls Syndrome, a debilitating condition with no cure. Tom looked at Jared's suitors. They were glaring at him angrily. Even lily-livered Jensen was shooting daggers at him from far, far away. Tommy took a precautionary step back, making a mental note not to hit on a babe with four admirers…five, if you count yellow-bellied Jen. Jared rushed up to them. He was confused and upset. These were all his friends. And they were fighting. He couldn't wrap around it. But then again, Jared couldn't wrap his mind around many things.

"What happened?" Jared sounded so young and fragile and broken and his lips were still swollen and Sebastian would have tongued him right there if Misha hadn't held him back. Really, how did Sebastian get anything done with that kind of sex drive? Still, must be fun living with an Eveready battery like that. Misha shook his head violently. Where the fuck did that idea come from? 'Focus', Misha thought, 'concentrate on the puppy and leave that fucking devil-child alone.'

"Don't worry, Jay." Jeff rumbled, menacing but calm, "Tom was just leaving. Weren't you, Tom?"

Tom didn't say a word. He had planned on kissing Jared good bye, but he was starting to see fuzzy doubles. He couldn't even see the youngest J, let alone locate his lips. And his throbbing cheek told him not to fuck around with these mad men. His P.A. had run and hid behind a tree, laughing, as soon as Jeff's fist had reached its destination. Now, the P.A. was praying that Tom hadn't heard him. Tom, because his vision was fucked up, was dragged away from the set to his car, by the P.A. who was still trying hard not to snigger.

Charlie almost had a seizure. Can you say lawsuit? Fortunately, Sera was chums with her boss Dawn Ostroff and told her about what had happened. Dawn blew a gasket. That Kryptonian Pervert had his filthy tongue all over sweet, innocent, perfect, beautiful, and thick as bricks Jared. Dawn told Sera, 'if you cause another threat to darling Jared, I'll see to it that the only job you get is washing up dishes at the Red Lobster'. Sera didn't doubt that. Dawn was evil. The boss-lady said she'll take care of Tommy-boy and his lawsuit. And how did she do that? She called his parents and told them about their randy son. They, in turn, called their 'sick, twisted' son and tore him a new one for touching 'poor, helpless Jared and taking advantage of his under-utilized brain. Tom was bawling his eyes out by the time mommy and daddy were through with him.

Back at the zoo, Charlie was asking Jeff what the hell had gotten into him.

"He took advantage of Jared." Jeff boomed, "And he was gloating about it."

Jared was standing right there, scratching his head. Was Tom really taking advantage of him? Well, the guy _had_ frenched him. Jared's jaw dropped. The guy _had_ taken advantage of him. Jared felt so cheap and dirty. He was grateful that Jeff had been there to fight for him.

"I don't care what you thought he was doing." Charlie grated "There are fifty other people around. How can he do anything with so many people around?"

"Because he is a whore, that's how?" Jensen's voice piped up from behind a trailer.

"Jen, quit hiding, you idiot." Charlie grated…again "Now, I know that you boys have rivalry issues and I can respect that. I mean I can't blame y'all. After all, just look at him."

Every jaw belonging to any ear within listening distance dropped. Jensen went flying at Charlie screaming 'you floozy'. Rob Singer and Lou Bollo pushed Jensen away, sending him flying face first into Misha. Misha grabbed his broken nose, throwing a kick at Lou, only to have McG trip him. Sebastian's blood boiled. _Nobody, and I mean nobody, fucks with Misha except me_, he grunted. Misha sat up, mildly dazed and mostly embarrassed, watching as Sebastian gave Mc a mother of a wedgie. Misha's heart fluttered, but he stilled it, because, hello! Feline-eyed sex-bomb standing right there, thank you. It became a full-on battle: cast versus crew. Richard kicked a cameraman on his arse and ran away. The irate cameraman gave chase. Jensen had Charlie in a headlock. Charlie grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it into Jensen's face. Rob flung Jeff into a trailer. McG was sitting on the ground, holding his arse and cursing the sadistic son of the bitch who discovered wedgies. Misha twisted the boom operator's nipples, eliciting a wolf-like howl from the poor man – who wasn't even fighting anyone. Well, he was now. Three extras, who were technically part of the cast, and wanted to join in the fun, picked up pies from the crafts tables, aiming and throwing at crew men in the battle field. Jared, for whom the penny had_ finally_ dropped, ran to get help. Everyone on set was busy kicking each others lights out, except for one guy. And he was the only one who could control these maniacs.

"ENOUGH!" Jim Beaver's voice boomed and almost instantly everyone stilled. Jim watched them all intently. What a macabre sight lay before him. Misha had two rivulets of blood running into his mouth, one from each nostril. Sebastian was in the middle of trying to lynch the boom operator. Richard came screaming into the battle zone, wronged cameraman in hot pursuit. They stopped, embarrassed, when they realized that the battle had come to an abrupt end. Jeff had bite mark on his sweaty neck. Rob made a mental note to brush his teeth later. Jensen was sitting on top of the prone Charlie, wearing a pie crust for a hat. Apparently, one of the extras couldn't throw for shit. The way he was smiling though, made you wonder if, he did it on purpose. Jensen shot him a dirty look. Jim shook his head. Normally decent men fighting like barbarians and covered in blood and pie filling and for what? This…this…Narcissus? A slow-witted Narcissus, but a narcissus, none the less. Jim was appalled. He was slightly British on his mother's side.

"What the fecking hell is going on here?" he was slightly Scottish on his father's side "I knew Jared was in trouble, but I had no idea, how much. Right! Everyone disperse. Go home. As punishment, tomorrow nobody talks to Jared or to each other. Give me one day, and I'll have this whole problem nibbled in the butt."

Jared, who had been standing behind Jim, fear-stricken, watched as everyone walked away, many stealing hungry glances at him. He was shattered. He had done this to them. If only, he wasn't so darn beautiful, maybe this would have never happened. He wiped away a tear that had fallen from his feline-inspired orbs and turned to follow Jim, who was gonna drive him home. On the way, Jim asked Jared if he liked even one of those clown. Jared said that yes, he did. Jim simply hummed his acknowledgment and kept on driving. He knew how to deal with this problem. The man was not just a pretty face. On the side of town, Clif shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Really, trying to soothe a paranoid actor who was crying shamelessly was not part of the job description. He was just the bodyguard, dammit.

"If Jim falls in love with him, too" Jensen squeaked "I just kill myself."

Jensen threw himself, dramatically, onto the seat and started crying even louder. Clif sighed. He needed to buy Tylenol, before going home…

"Tylenol?" Misha asked, gawking at the devil-child, standing at this front door. He looked at the brand new pack of painkillers in his hand. Sebastian (and this was a first) looked all blushy.

"Yeah...Everybody needs to pull their shit together. Just in case…y'know…if Eric pays a visit tomorrow. If Jim calls him, he'll pitch up… er… everyone's gotta look sharp, or he'll be pissed. So…I brought you the Tylenol for…the sake of the show. Yeah…okay…goodbye."

Misha stood, mouth having open, watching the devil-child's uncomfortable looking form retreating into the night. Misha blushed. When Sebastian found a wall to hide, he…well, he hid… and watched. Misha, oh Misha. That Russian love-muffin had no idea that symbolically he holding a piece of Sebastian's heart in his hand. Tylenol had never been used to convey love before…but there a first time for everything, I say. Richard locked his apartment doors and windows. The wronged cameraman, armed with a paddle, was stalking him.

End of Part Two

A/N: Okay, fine. Call me a lunatic. I just didn't thinking this focking fic would go over two chapters. It's that damn Jared. If he wasn't so feckable, my story would have ended sooner.

A/N#2: I would like Jim to nibble my butt, thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Please do not spit out beverages at your screen. I felt the splatters on my face and I tell you, washing sticky cooldrinks/saliva combos out my hair is not fun. Kindly swallow. Don't spit. Thank you.

A/N#2: The world is a dark, dark place when one pervert spits on another. I still can't get over it. Just saying…

A/N#3: Ta, for the kind support. I ended the fucker finally. The world of the sane is safe at last. Now onto the grand climax of the masterpiece.

A/N#4: Unbetaed, but you should expect that from lazy old me by now.

Chapter Three

(Please… end already, you bastard.)

Jensen sat in his trailer, trembling like an electrocuted man. He needed his Jared fix. He hadn't seen, touched or sniffed the siren all day, and the withdrawal was killing him. Jim had locked himself in his trailer since morning and he was keeping the puppy with him. Richard snuck around the set, deftly avoiding the vengeful cameraman whose arse had been wronged, seeking out the Polish studmuffin. Misha and Sebastian (a.k.a. satan and lucifer) were oddly calm. They were the only ones who didn't look like they were awaiting execution. For some reason, that frightened everybody else. Charlie and his goons were planning a mass attack on the actors, to be carried out, sneakily, behind Jim's back. Laxative was the only option they'd come up with so far. Amateurs. Jeff was sulking in his trailer, writing poetry, with the majestic Jared as his muse. The words flowed easily out of his pen, because Jensen had broken his laptop. And he did it on purpose. Jeff's earlier works were light and fluffy, like scrambled eggs. His favorite was:

Jared, Jared, you're so fine

You're so fine, you blow my mind

Go Jared, go Jared

After last night's near-death experience and the realization that Jared blew quite a few minds, Jeff's prose became a lot more somber.

Roses are red, violets are blues

I love that fucking hottie

And he doesn't have a clue.

Jim had been at his computer all day, googling and giggling. He finally found an idea that might actually work on the assortment of Jaredaholics. _Padaholics? Pick whichever sounds better to you?_ Finally, he called all the actors into his trailer. They shuffled in obediently, covered in bandages, medical gauze and mickey mouse plasters. Last night nobody had held back. The animal in everyone had arisen, ready to fight and die for a good cause…Jared Padalecki's hand – amongst other body parts. Jensen's inner animal, oddly enough, looked like something Paris Hilton would carry and call Fifi. Tom Welling was a fucking gremlin. One day! He spent one day on the set and look at what he'd done. That devil's pitch fork! The partially mummified co-stars sat down, in front of delicious Jared. Jared had been given explicit instructions to shut his big mouth; 'don't speak, you'll fuck everything up.' Jared was going to be a good little boy and tighten his trap. After last night, he had gone home upset. He had taken a bubble bath, shampooed, conditioned, cleansed, toned, moisturized and exfoliated. He went to sleep, crying into his silk pillow. Now here he was, sitting in front of these men, feeling like a porterhouse steak grilled medium-rare and served with a cabernet. Jared's mouth watered. Might be lunch time soon. Then, he remembered. He had just eaten lunch.

Jim Beaver cleared his throat, and Jensen screamed. Everyone gaped at him, stunned.

"What the feck are you screaming for?" Jim asked, holding his chest.

"You startled me." Jensen explained, blushing like a kid who'd walked in on his parents doing it.

Jim made an effort to ignore Jensen. Jensen was one of those really irritating people that everyone naturally avoided…except Jared, but then Jared was never known for making a smart move. Rob had given his hypothesis as to why nobody liked Jensen. Jensen was like a pig's tail; forever twisted and located near the arsehole. Nobody really understood what Rob meant, but it was funny and suited Jensen's zit-like personality, so they spread the good word. Jensen always wondered why people snorted every time he ordered bacon. (a/n: Somebody is still spitting on me. Please focking stop it) Jim shook his head and cleared his throat again…softly, shooting Jensen a warning look.

"Now, boys," Jim began, three sets of eager eyes plastered on him, two sets of evil eyes stealing bashful glances at each other. And Jim, that clever bastard, noticed.

"I have a long talk with Jared _(dirty liar! All he told Jared to do was shut his big trap)_ and he told me that he likes all of you equally _(everyone is horrified at the harlot)_. However, his family will disown him, if he becomes a community wife. So he has asked me to choose his potential other half."

"WHAT!" Jim jumped. One day these boys were gonna give him a heart attack. He spoke again.

"Jared told me that he would respect any decision I make, because I am wise and profound and not just a pretty face."

"And how the bloody hell, are you going to decide such a thing?" Richard inquired, cynically.

"By using an ancient science that is as old as humankind. _(everyone is mystified)_ Within this well-respected scientific knowledge, we will find the answers that we seek. Now, is everybody ready?"

Everyone nodded, spellbound but nervous. Jim smiled at the morons and spoke.

"Jared is a Cancerian. Now according to…"

"WHAT!" Jensen screamed "Star signs? You're using star signs? What are you, a fucking teenage girl?"

"Ancient science?" Richard bristled "More like voodoo science."

"Do you wanna hear this or not?" Jim shot back "Remember Jared is taking _my _decision and I might just choose the person who shouts the least."

Jensen and Richard slapped their hands over their mouth. Jim smiled smugly and continued.

"Now, Misha, let's start with you. What's your star sign?" Jim knew, but he was a skilled liar, not for nothing.

"Leo." Misha said, feeling stupid. Jim fake-grimaced.

"Jared is a cancer. You're a Leo. Oh no. Terrible match. Leo's are adventurers and Cancer love family bonding. Leo's also love themselves a lot. In fact, Leo's are the kind of guys who will try to fellate themselves at least once. _(Jim hoped nobody realized he is also a Leo)_ Misha, you need someone to put you in your place, someone you can't push around. Jared is too easy to push around, or worse, to neglect. You need another Leo to deal with you. Any Leo's here?"

All heads turned, as Sebastian raised his hand tentatively, mouth opened. Misha was shocked. Sebastian looked at him, eyes hungry (stomach hungry too, he hadn't eaten because he was under the suspicion the boom operator had mixed something undesirable in his food). Misha smiled shyly like a third world hooker, Sebastian smiled back like a first world customer. Really, it was a beautiful sight. Jim beamed. He was immensely proud of himself, but then he was a Leo so he was accustomed to that feeling. Jensen looked fearfully at Jeff and Richard. If Jim tried to match him up with one of these primates…Jensen swallowed the rising bile.

"Well, there you go." Jim smiled "Leave Jared now, and concentrate on each other. Right! Richard, what's your star sign?"

"Virgo." Richard said, suspicion creeping in his voice. Jim looked like he was considering Dick's answer. _(hee hee 'Dick')_

"Mmm no." Jim finally decided, "Virgo and cancer. No, I could never do that to Jared."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Richard asked, offended.

"Well, Cancer is spontaneous." Jim said, pretending he hadn't memorized these lines "Virgos are nitpickers and over-analyzers. Like that guy Monk, only not funny. Your criticisms could reduce Jared to tears."

Jeff and Jensen snarled at Richard, like he'd really upset Jared. Richard cowered as much as he could, with a neck brace.

"Doesn't matter if I don't get Jared," Jeff spoke up for the first time "Just don't give him to someone whose gonna make him cry."

Jim wanted to throw up. These guys were such saps.

"Don't worry, Jeff." Jim reassured him "Rich is definitely out of the race. Richard, why don't you try your luck with a Pisces? Pisces are your perfect match. Or a Libra, if you're desperate. Stay away from Leos, though. They hate you to death." (_Myself included, thought Jim_)

"Gee, thanks, Jim" Richard snarked, not buying any of this bullshit for one second. Misha wasn't scared of him for nothing, y'know. "We will definitely listen to you."

For the first time, Jim's confidence wavered. This bastard was gonna ruin the whole plan.

"Jensen," Jim deliberately turned his attention away from Richard "what's your sign?"

"Pisces." Jensen offered, bewildered. _That's it_, thought Richard, _I've had enough of this zodiac nonsense. Time to silence this nincompoop_. Richard straightened his back, opened his mouth and made the mistake of glancing at Jensen for a second. Jensen looked like his boring usual self, but his eyes danced. Richard decided to keep quiet. Jensen had a grotesque personality, but his cushion lips more than made up for it. Jim wanted to laugh at Richard's stupidity. Pisceans were the most delusional people in the world, minds always drifting off to make-believe places where blue birds sing and there's a whisky spring. They were also very boring and standoffish. Richard was choosing high-maintenance over low-maintenance. Idiot. Not that Jim believed in all that voodoo horoscope nonsense.

"Wow, Jen" Jim pretended he hadn't seen mutiny in Richard's roguish eyes "Now that is a match right there. Pisces and Cancer. As beautiful as 'Leo and Leo' or 'Pisces and Virgo'. 90% perfect. The remaining 10% will allow for make up sex and angry sex."

Jensen didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He should be ecstatic. So why was he so sad? He turned and stared at Richard, who smiled softly and winked at him. Jensen gasped at the fluttery feeling that gesture gave him. The unloved pig's tail felt all warm and happy. For a second Jensen pictured marrying Jared, but fucking Richard, copiously, on the side. Jensen went red in the face. He was thinking like a bicycle. Thank goodness, people couldn't read his pornographic mind. And poor Jared, he had actually…thought of…he was horrible man, for even thinking it.

"Jensen, you might be the one." Jim said "Unless Jeff throws a curve. Jeff, what is your sign?"

"Taurus" Jeff said fearfully, looking like he was going to cry any second. Jared smirked.

"Jeff threw a curve ball," Jim tried to look shocked like he didn't know what Jeff was going to say, "I can't believe it. Taurus and cancer. The most perfect of all matches. Two parts of one whole. Cosmic twins. Soulmates. Congratulations, Jeff. You're it. Live long and prosper. I need coffee. G'bye."

Jim was done with the whole stupid exercise. He wanted to get out of there before some new drama unfolded. Before he left, he turned to look at the boys. Jeff had jumped out of his seat and grabbed Jared, squeezing the boy tight and covering him with relieved kisses as if to say 'mine, mine, mine'. Jared gave Jim a thumbs up sign and buried his grinning, dimply face into papa bear's neck. Jim felt so smug. Misha and Sebastian had lost track of the whole conversation. They had spent that entire time, eye-fucking each other. Jim was flushed with embarrassment. Really, they needed to find a room. Jensen and Richard sat there, all coy and innocent, only baby fingers touching, the gesture sweet and chaste until you looked into their eyes and saw promise. Jim left the trailer quickly. It was becoming uncomfortably warm in there. Jeff was too greedy to wait for privacy, to start making out with his baby boy. Sebastian and Misha looked like they were dangerously close to doing something shameless. Jensen and Richard just sat there, a puddle of gasoline waiting for an errant spark. Jim shook his head and made his way to the crafts table, where unbeknownst to him, all the food had been laced with extra strong laxative.

The Focking End – finally.

A/N: the whole Jared and Jeff being cosmic twins and what not. Apparently it's true. Well, according to their star signs, anyway. But a girl can dream. Now if you excuse me, the thought of Jared and Jeff having soulmate sex, is flooding my underwear. Ta, for sticking around, Pervy Maidens of the Sisterhood,[except the one who kept spitting on me]. I do hope I didn't damage you grey matter, permanently. Ta ta. It's been grand. Sammyjaredgirl signing out. Mwah.


End file.
